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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429030">Poultry in Motion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin'>ETraytin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The West Wing, Untitled Goose Game (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Thanksgiving, very silly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 19:07:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Thanksgiving at the White House and you are definitely not a turkey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Poultry in Motion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't even know where this came from, I was just sitting around minding my own business when BobRussellFan came up behind me and said "There should be a fanfic where the goose goes to the White House," and suddenly it happened. I take no responsibility.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CJ stared into the cage. “That,” she said at length, “is not a turkey.” </p><p>Tucker, the latest Thanksgiving courier charged with the yearly delivery, took off his hat and scratched his head. “Huh.” </p><p>“We ordered two turkeys, right?” CJ asked. “I mean, this is pretty much a standard engagement for the last, oh, fifty years or so?” </p><p>“They told me at the farm they loaded me up two turkeys; I didn't take the covers off the cages,” Tucker explained. “But they said it was turkeys.” </p><p>CJ pursed her lips and studied the new arrivals. “Now I'm no ornithologist here, but I'm reasonably sure that that,” she pointed to the cage on the left, “is in fact a turkey, while that,” she pointed right, “is a goose.” </p><p>“Looks that way,” Tucker admitted. </p><p>“We can't pardon a goose,” CJ informed him. </p><p>“You probably could,” Tucker offered. “It's a nice-looking goose, you could put a bow on it or something.” </p><p>It's the principle of the thing,” CJ sighed and bent down to look at the cards on the cages. “Looks like our turkey friend here is Reginald, poor thing, and the goose... the card's blank.” </p><p>“Huh,” Tucker said  again. “Lemme step out for a minute and I'll call my boss, see what's going on.” </p><p>“Fine, just do it quickly, please. I need to pick the more photogenic one and I only have eighteen hours.” CJ leaned against her desk and watched the two birds. Reginald seemed passable enough, fat body and big round tail, red face with the wobbly thing under his beak. The goose, on the other hand, was watching her back, both its beady black eyes fixed on her intently. It let out a loud HONK. She jumped. “This is the White House, you can't do that here,” she told it sternly. “What are you, Josh Lyman?” </p><p>“CJ!” Carol stuck her head in the door, looking excited. “The AP wire's got- is that a goose?” </p><p>“Yeah, it's a thing, we're working on it,” CJ told her, waving it off. “What have they got?” Dealing with the latest press dustup required a trip to the press briefing room and several conferences with Toby, who would rather be harassing Sam about the president's Thanksgiving speech, so she didn't get back to her office for nearly an hour. Tucker was waiting for her. </p><p>“Sorry about that,” she told him, “There was a press thing. “Did you get in touch with-” She stopped and followed Tucker's gaze to the right hand cage. The empty cage. “Tucker,” she asked, very slowly and carefully, “where is the goose?” </p><p>“I dunno,” Tucker replied unhelpfully. “They told me I picked up the wrong cage, that I left one of the turkeys in the barn and picked up... well, when I told my boss what had happened, he just moaned and hung up the phone.”</p><p>“That doesn't seem like a great sign.” CJ chewed on her lip, thinking. “It can't have gotten very far, it's a goose in the middle of the White House. We can just grab it up and put it back.” </p><p>“Ma'am?” Tucker asked, “have you ever tried to grab up a goose?” </p><p>“No, but the basic mechanics seem clear enough.” </p><p>Tucker just shook his head. He looked about to say more when there was a commotion down the hall in the Communications bullpen. “Hey!” Sam's voice cut through the din, “those are my glasses! Come back with those!” A loud HONNNNK was the only answer. </p><p>CJ and Tucker traded a glance and began jogging towards the disturbance. It was, CJ could already tell, going to be a horrible day.</p>
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